


Chicken Noodle

by glorious_spoon



Category: Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon
Summary: "There's no way in hell I'm eating that," Ward said.
Relationships: Ward Meachum & Danny Rand
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25
Collections: Flash In The Pan: A Food Flash Exchange





	Chicken Noodle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scioscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scioscribe/gifts).



> A little treat fic for **scioscribe** , for the prompt 'These Food Cans Don't Have Any Labels So Dinner Will Be Whatever We Find When We Open Them'. I hope you enjoy!

Ward folded his arms, leaned back against the curving metal wall, and said, very firmly, “There’s no way in hell I’m eating that.”

“You don’t even know what’s in it.” Danny didn’t even look up from his efforts to pry open the slightly rusted can with nothing but a pocket knife and an impressive amount of determination. Currently, he had it wedged between his knees and was sawing at the top joint; Ward considered it about a fifty-percent possibility that the knife would slip at some point and they’d have to deal with Danny severing a couple of tendons and getting tetanus on top of everything else that had gone wrong today. He didn’t try to intervene, though. Danny was vibrating with a frantic sort of energy, and this was probably a slightly less destructive outlet than him practicing kung-fu in the tiny, stuffy, cargo hold where he was virtually guaranteed to take Ward's head off doing some kind of fancy ninja move named after a mythical animal. Or not-so-mythical animal, in this case.

“Yeah. My point exactly. Is there an expiration date on it? No? For all you know, that could be older than we are.”

“Speak for yourself,” Danny said, looking up with a brief grin. And then, more sincerely, “Stop worrying. Colleen will find us.”

“I’m not _worrying_ ,” Ward scoffed. Then he amended, “Well, maybe about food poisoning if you try to make me eat whatever’s in there. It’s been less than 24 hours. I’m not that hungry yet.”

“You need to keep up your strength,” Danny said. “Besides, we’ll know if it’s gone off. You can smell--there.”

He’d finally managed to dig the tip of the knife through the top of the can. Despite himself, Ward leaned over to watch as he sawed it the rest of the way open and peeled the lid back, miraculously without shredding his fingertips. “It’s… soup?”

“Looks like. Chicken noodle.” Danny sniffed it, then took a drink right from the ragged mouth of the can. “Tastes okay.”

“For whatever value of ‘okay’ encompasses cold glop from a rusted can.” Ward watched, both appalled and fascinated, as Danny took another sip of broth, then fished out a soggy-looking noodle and popped it in his mouth. Danny offered him the can, grinning. “No, seriously. It’s all you. One of us has to be alive to keep an eye on the radio in case your girlfriend or the Coast Guard shows up.”

“Suit yourself,” Danny said with a shrug, and indicated the rest of the stash of unlabeled cans that had probably been there since at least the Gulf War. “There’s plenty more if you change your mind.”

“Pigs might fly,” Ward muttered, but he folded himself down beside Danny, shoulders bumping companionably. “Colleen will get here.”

“Yeah, I know she will,” Danny said, and leaned back against him.


End file.
